I’m back. Again.
I’ve been *this* close to just making the demise of this blog official… to just write the official goodbye post & put the poor thing out of it’s misery.
But I can’t quite bring myself to do it. I don’t know if it’s that I can’t admit that I’m done, or if I’m just actually NOT done.
I am now the mother of a one-year-old. An almost-13-month-old, to be exact. Hard to believe, it is. Rosebud is now pulling up & cruising around the furniture. She speed-crawls like a demon, & thinks that rolling in Oscar’s disgustingly hairy bed is the funniest thing ever. She pulls trash out of the kitchen trash can & throws it on the floor like a bad puppy. She calls all four-legged animals “doggies,” including goats, llamas, cows, horses, & of course, actual doggies. She blows the occasional kiss when she feels so inclined, & wiggles all over herself in excitement when I walk into the room…. pretty much the best feeling ever.
Oh, & the opposite of the best feeling… she bit me last week. I was putting her pajamas on (aka, performing my daily evil & torturous act of our bedtime routine) & she was writhing & flopping like a baby alligator & then she sunk her pearly whites into my arm & chomped down. Like, went all pitbull on me & chewed into me like I was a steak, & didn’t let go. And in one of my finer parenting moments, without thought or anger or any mental activity whatsoever, I reacted to the pain in my arm & popped her in the back of her little baby head to make her let go. And then the blood welled up in the teeth-holes in my arm & the tears welled up in my eyes & we had a little cry together.
I’ve already bought Rose a strawberry costume for Halloween but perhaps I need to reconsider.
*And if anyone’s reading, feel free to judge… I judge myself. Dude, when you have an alligator latched onto your arm, it’s hard to consult your inner parenting guide. But it’s still not ok to pop your baby (pitbull) in the back of her little baby (pitbull) head. I’m hoping this arm-biting/head-popping incident doesn’t come up on a therapist’s couch one day.
So yeah, Rose & I are still here. A year later, I’m still sorting out this whole stay-at-home-mom thing. I go entire weeks without holding a coherent or even semi-intelligent thought in my head. I sometimes find it difficult to shake off the grogginess — all I think about is napping. And then sometimes I feel all motivated & crap. I have no idea if this is normal. I think it’s just the fact that since I’m staying at home, I actually have the option of napping while Rose naps. Knowing that the option is there makes me think about how tired I am. So I’m psyching myself into feeling sluggish. Either that, or I’m just lazy. That’s a possibility too. I am amazed by moms who home-school. Amazed & completely intimidated.
But Social Sarah is continuing her reemergence. I’ve been in my monthly book club for like 7 months now, which is more staying power than I’ve shown for anything in quite some time. And I’m still doing the MOPS steering team… it was a decision that I made totally on a whim, but one that I’ve actually been really happy with. I’m not only meeting people, but I’m actually starting to feel like I’m making friends…. & that’s a feeling that I haven’t had in years. YEARS, people. I’ve been realizing in the last few months that while I’m very attached to the Heretics (that’s my pet name for my & Bobby’s Sunday School class, in which the median age is 65), we’re missing out on potential interactions with people our own age in other SS classes. I’m not leaving our SS class… which means I have to find social interaction with people my own age elsewhere. Enter book club & MOPS.
Of course, with the whole putting myself out there thing comes increased vulnerability, which became apparent this past week. I have a complicated relationship with one of the girls in my book club. I didn’t mean for it to become complicated… I said I didn’t like her book pick & hurt her feelings, which was completely unintentional, & then I felt terrible & apologized, which seems to have made it even worse & more awkward. And then this past week, we had our monthly meeting which happened to be at my house, & suddenly 3 out of 7 girls (including the Complicated Relationship) cancelled & it felt terribly personal to me, although I’m sure it wasn’t. And I suddenly felt all vulnerable & prickly & Alexander Kitten-like & started wondering about why people don’t like me & why I care & made rash sweeping statements about how “THIS is why I don’t try to have friends” (which is a silly thing to say & I knew that even as I was saying it)…
But that’s part of the package, I guess. If you connect or reconnect with people, there’s always the chance that your expectations of the connection aren’t going to be the same as the other person’s. And then (if you’re me), you get all sassy & testy. But after a day of fixating & wallowing (as my grandmother would say), I got over it. Sent out a bunch of invites to fun girls asking them to join, & resolved not to overanalyze future interactions.
I don’t even remember where I was going with this post. Thus you have a prime example of me not being to able to retain a coherent thought.
And on that note, I shall go to bed.
Oh, but not before I document that tomorrow is the Reinstatement of our Fall Family Picnic. The capitals indicate the importance… this is a big deal. Growing up, our family went on a fall family picnic every single year. We would pile into the minivan & up the mountain we’d go, laughing & fighting & singing & sulking, depending on who you are. And as we’d get to the higher elevations, Mama would howl “LOOK at the LEAVES!” repeatedly. And sometimes we would say “ohhhhhhh, aaahhhhhh”, which made her happy, & other times we would ignore her, which made her mad. But either way, we were together & ultimately, that’s all she wanted. This will be our first fall family picnic without her.
So yeah. Reinstatement tomorrow. I gotta go to bed now.